Lily Potter: Year One, A Chamber and House Secrets
by tainteddr34ms
Summary: A darker version of Lily Potter casts herself into the role of the Girl Who Lived by erasing baby Harry from existence and taking his place during Riddle's attack. Basically a dark girl!Harry story with a plot reason.
1. Prologue  Take the Pain and Use It

All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. This is an amateur work of fanfiction and no infringement is intended.

Title: Lily Potter: Year One, A Chamber and House Secrets

Author: tainteddr34ms

Rating: Mature. Adult themes. Sexual Situations

Pairing: Lily/Ginny Femslash eventually.

Beta: Leigh

Author's note: This story probably qualifies as a girl!harry story but it's really about a very dark Lily Potter. Very much AU. Chapter titles are title's and lyrics from some of my favorite songs. Themes of child abuse. Sexual situations when the characters are old enough that I'm comfortable writing them.

**Lily Potter: Year One, A Chamber and House Secrets**

**Prologue**

**Take the Pain and Use It **

There's a secret we Evens women keep, passed across the generations. Well, my mother and I, anyway. Before that, the name was Carlisle. The names change whenever one of us marries into a new patriarchal line. A mother and daughter and then a new name. For over fourteen hundred years. Hiding the only Matriarchal Line within the blood of the Patriarchs.

Most generations, only one of us learns the secret. Occasionally, two have enough power to learn it, to be trusted to keep it. My half sister Petunia believes our family to be muggles, or more accurately, that I'm a freak. We're not. I'm not. She's a squib, unworthy of the secret.

Mother was a pureblood witch hiding from her father and grandfather. Disowned for marrying a muggle named John Evans and giving birth to a squib, Petunia. Even though her mother did everything she could to stay in contact and help, the two men were fanatical enough in their pureblood beliefs that my mother was only safe living in the muggle world.

There's another secret Mother only shared with me, though it was only kept for her dignity. John Evans wasn't my father. Morfin Gaunt had a son named Cadmus that no one knew about, not even any of the Gaunts. My mother needed a pureblood daughter to guard the secret after she was gone, so she seduced him and had me.

Harry's a squib. All the boys in my line are, the few that are born, anyway. Morgan's paranoia and magic made sure no male inherited the secrets of her House. James doesn't know, I"ve never had the heart to tell him. Nor the will or freedom to explain.

I love Harry, I really do. Even as I stand over his crib, drawing the blood rune upon his forehead—the worst kind of blood magic on my own child—I convince myself of this. Tears run down my cheeks, but I don't stop. I can't. I have no daughter to teach the secret to so I must continue even as I am prophesied to die tonight. I have the power to manipulate fate, alter the prophecy. But that power demands sacrifice. My life. My son's life. My husband's life. The Most Ancient and Noble House of Le Fay, The Hidden House, must continue. There is no choice.

James would curse me with an unforgivable if he knew the meaning of the rune. A single line divides the rune in two, right down the middle. On the right, The House of Nyx, daughter of Chaos, a stag looking up at the moon, supplication to the Goddess Artemis. James believes it has some meaning about him, about Prongs. He has no idea it demands his death so that his son will be erased from existence, history rewritten. Chaos unleashed on the Tapestry.

In the left House, I write the spell in Latin with a quill. _Ut pretium devorat mater filium nasci, sic ut. _This mother witch devours her son so that she may be born again.

Done, I drop the quill to the floor, nearly forgotten. Pulling a sharp knife from my robes, I hold my wrist over the rune and run the blade quickly but firmly across it. Skin splits and my blood pours. Harry screams shrilly as the rune absorbs all my spilled blood. After releasing about a pint, I lower my wrist to my side. It is done. I am damned. I don't bother to treat the wound. What's the point? I'll be dead in less than a minute. Fate cannot be avoided, only manipulated.

I've protected my memories for when I'm older, mature enough to handle the secrets of The Most Ancient and Noble House of Le Fay. Not that You Know Who can't get to them. He can. But if he's ever in a position to get at my memories, all will have already been lost. Nothing to worry over really, because if this is the case, I'll have died a second time anyway.

A hard boom sounds from downstairs. The front door being kicked in. Then a brief scuffle followed by heavy, creaking footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart hammers against my chest and my breath comes ragged. A tall, almost reptilian man steps through the door, his black cloak billowing around him as if he stood in a sharp wind instead of the still air of the nursery.

As I play my part in the prophecy and move between him and Harry, I briefly wonder at the penance I'll have to pay for this spell. Magic always has consequences and the darker the spell, the darker the consequences. Considering the bonds I'm betraying, there is no blacker magic. He raises a boney arm and points his wand at me, saying in a deep, firm voice, "_Avada kedavra_."

A brilliant, emerald green light arcs out from his wand into my chest and I drop dead on the spot before I even hear the rush of the spell. But my soul stays, anchored to the rune on Harry's forehead by my blood.

He Who Must Not Be Named steps up to Harry's crib, pointing his wand at my screaming child's head, repeating, "_Avada kedavra_."

Goodbye, Harry. I'm so sorry.

A brilliant explosion of green and red light fills the room. As the roof disintegrates above us, flames devour Voldemort instantly, leaving behind a pile of wet, gooey ash. Chaos intervenes, reweaving the Tapestry, removing all traces of Harry James Potter. I'm rewoven into the Tapestry in his place, rebirthed as my daughter by a spell so vile the Ministry has no knowledge of it to make it unforgivable. Lily Nyx Potter. Grateful that, as a newborn child, I won't remember why I live a damned life.


	2. 1 Close Your Mouth and Shut Your Face

All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. This is an amateur work of fanfiction and no infringement is intended.

Title: Lily Potter: Year One, A Chamber and House Secrets

Author: tainteddr34ms

Rating: Mature. Adult themes. Sexual Situations

Pairing: Lily/Ginny Femslash eventually.

Beta: Leigh

Author's note: This story probably qualifies as a girl!harry story but it's really about a very dark Lily Potter. Very much AU. Chapter titles are title's and lyrics from some of my favorite songs. Themes of child abuse. Sexual situations when the characters are old enough that I'm comfortable writing them.

Trigger warning for the first scene as it starts right after she's been sexually abused. Nothing graphic, just emotional.

**Lily Potter: Year One, A Chamber and House Secrets**

**Chapter One**

**Close Your Mouth and Shut Your Face**

I hurt too much from what Uncle Vernon did to me so I shuffle over to my cupboard under the stairs instead of going to clean myself up. Besides, if I go upstairs to the bathroom, Aunt Petunia might catch me and beat me for being the freak that I am. She calls me one every time the monster hurts me, over and over as she beats me with a belt. She must be right. I stopped fighting him months ago.

Today's my eleventh birthday. Has been for the last six hours.

As I crawl through the door to my cupboard, I have to swallow back down the bile threatening to come up. I lie down on my thin, sheetless mattress and pull the door closed. The tears I've been holding back finally come. I've decided. I want to die.

I'm going to do it too. Tonight, as my birthday ends at midnight. Eleven years of hell exactly and then I'm done. I'll use the butcher knife to slice my wrists. He'll never be able to touch me again. No man will.

As I stare up at the underside of the stairs, I try to feel nothing but I can't shut out the pain. It consumes me. Even the lightening bolt shaped scar on my forehead throbs. I start shaking. Can't stop, I have no control over it. As my eyes unfocus there's a small pop with a dim flash of light, and suddenly a small, jet black snake with a hard, boney crest running out the back of its head and its eyes closed, lays atop my chest. It looks enough like…

I take a deep breath, getting ready to scream. Sweat beads my brow. And then the snake speaks in a hissing tongue that I can somehow understand, "Relax, Younger, I am here to help."

"Help?" My lips quiver a bit as I ask in the same hissing speech. I have no idea how or why I know the right way to say it, but I do.

"You are eleven today, Lily." My name in the snake's language is scary sounding. I look closer at the snake, squinting tightly to see clearer because I left my glasses out there with the monster. And notice for the first time it's slightly translucent. "I am a projection," it says, answering me before I can ask. "My body waits for you, for you to command and for me to obey, Speaker. A foolish, but kind hearted and easily manipulated man, comes today to put you on a path that will lead you to me. You must tell him what your uncle does to you; otherwise he will bring you back here tonight."

"How-how do-do you know?" I hate that I stutter over my words. The idea of telling is terrifying, but if I never have to come back I'll be happy to tell. I just hope the snake is real rather than a sign of me going crazy and that it's right and the man is kind. It'd really suck to go from one monster to another.

"In the before life you commanded me to watch and wait and to come to you if you ever gave up. You did, so I am here. Follow the path laid out for you today and it will bring you to me. I will teach you of your family's heirlooms and you will use them to seek vengeance on the false master and your family."

I have no idea who it means by false master but it's the family part that catches my interest. "Can I make them hurt?"

"Most definitely, Mistress. All the pain they deserve." It's a little weird hearing it call me Mistress, but I like it. Means I'm in control.

My tears have dried, leaving behind a grim determination. If I'm crazy…? I shrug at the thought. Doesn't matter anymore. I ignore the salty sting around my eyes and wait. It's almost time to make breakfast anyway. Even if it is my birthday, I still have to make sure food is on the table when they come down the stairs. An empty table would be very painful.

-LNP-

I'm scared. The monster's packing up everything he can think of and stowing it in the car. I wonder briefly if they're going to tie me to the roof because there surely can't be any room left inside. Letters have been coming for me, letters he kept hidden till so many came this morning he couldn't hide them. I get it now. Snakey was right. The man's coming to find out why they never received my owl. It's the only thing that makes any sense.

Being a witch explains a lot. Like the time at school Dudley and his friend Piers tried to beat me up and when I tried to get away, I flew up to the roof of the nearest building and ran until I found a good place to hide. Stayed up there till they lost interest.

As Uncle Vernon moves up to the door, him and Dudley carrying the last trunk, I try to come up with a way to stall. Maybe I can hide somewhere? I'm saved from acting as a loud boom sounds against the door.

The monster turns white as milk as he drops the drunk and steps back. Suddenly, the front door blasts off its hinges, and falls on top of him, barely missing Dudley. Uncle Vernon goes crashing to the ground with a thud as a giant with a bushy, chest length, brown beard steps through the doorway. His hair is easily as long as his beard, just as brown, just as bushy. Too bad the floor is covered in tan carpet. The monster might of cracked his head open if it'd been tile his skull bounced against.

"Sorry 'bout that," the giant says, looking like he's about to move up and help Uncle Vernon with the door.

I waste no time as I step up to the man and wrap my arms about a third of the way around his waist, as far as I can reach. I look up at him and let out a few tears. They're real, not fake. Just useful, even if they make me feel a little guilty. "Uncle Vernon's been forcing me to have sex with him for the last six months."

The look of pure anger washing over his face terrifies me until I realize it's directed at the monster. He carefully pries me loose and steps up to Uncle Vernon, kicking him in the side so hard Uncle Vernon screams as the door flies off him. Foam drips from the monster's mouth as he starts to convulse. The giant says to all three of them, "If any of 'ya try'n come anywhere near this girl again, I'll kill 'ya mehself."

He turns back to me. "Din 'ya have anything ta change into?"

I nod my head. "In my room."

"Go get changed," he says. I'm still in my night shirt and it's nearly thread bear. I turn to the stairs and go to my cupboard. I slip inside and change into a pair of old, faded jeans and a blue t-shirt. Hand me downs from Dudley. Even though the clothes are a couple years old and we're the same age, the jeans are way too long and baggy and the shirt hangs on me like a tent. I fold the cuffs up till they're even with my ankles then grab a piece of rope to tie my pants in place. I slip on my socks and sneakers and then head out of the cupboard.

"Do you have a coat?" the giant asks. When I shake my head no, he steps up to the coat rack besides the door and grabs Aunt Petunia's warm but light, tan summer coat. He moves back over to me and wraps me up in it. Taking my hand, he pulls me out the door, saying, "That should keep 'ya warm. We have a change in plans. We're off ta see the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He'll know what ta do."

-LNP-

Throughout my story, the Headmaster kept offering me a lemon drop every time he grabbed one for himself, which was quite frequently. They're the first sugar I've ever had and they taste simply wonderful. I expected them to make me super hyper like I'd read about, but instead, each one keeps me calm enough to say what I have to say without breaking down and crying. They strike me as a little creepy till I realize they're magic lemon drops. I'm grateful for them.

"Thank you for the lemon drops, Headmaster," I say respectfully as he steps back from the fireplace where he'd just had a talk with a witch names Mrs. Weasley about me. Pretty nifty how the flames turned green and then Mrs. Weasley's faced formed in the them as they talked. "The calming effect was greatly appreciated." Doesn't hurt to be polite, even if I'm rather unimpressed with the great Albus Dumbledore. All these years, he's never once checked up on me and it turns out he's my guardian. What an idiot. I'm getting a new guardian as soon as I can. One who won't let me be hurt and treated like a slave because they're too busy to bother.

He steps back behind his desk and sits in a very large, comfortable looking chair. The twinkle one of his eyes held when I first walked in is long gone. He looks exhausted and old.

"Mrs. Weasley will be here shortly with a change of clothes. Something that'll fit you a lot better." He stares at me a moment after lowering his rectangle shaped, wire rimmed glasses down his nose. "I have given you little reason to trust me to keep you safe and for that, I am truly sorry."

He pauses and I don't know how to answer him. I can't tell him it's ok, 'cause it's not even close. And his apology means nothing to me. He failed. He can't fix that. But I can move forward.

"Hagrid saved my life, sir." I say. "I'd be dead by the end of the night if it wasn't for him." I ignore the worry suddenly clouding his eyes. "I'm just glad to be here. I'm free now. Thinking about anything else is just too confusing."

He nods as green flames dance in the fireplace. A short, plump woman with fiery orange hair hanging to just past her shoulders steps out from the flames. She hands me a package as she takes the other seat in front of the Headmaster's desk. I don't look because I know what's in there. Clothes.

"Molly, I need you to take over the guardianship of Miss Potter," Dumbledore says to her. I wonder if he's ever asked anyone for anything. At least he agrees with me I need a new guardian. "I failed her utterly and totally as her guardian. I believe a clean start would be best for her and that's where you come in. I would be in your debt."

"That won't be necessary, Albus," she says. "I'd be happy to take her."

"Good, good," he coos. "Lily," he looks at me. "The door behind me is my private bathroom. Why don't you go get cleaned up and changed while I have a talk with Mrs. Weasley?"

I nod and get up. "Thank you for the clothes," I say to Mrs. Weasley with a nod and then head for the door behind the Headmaster. I don't mind that he's getting rid of me for the moment. I have no desire to hear my story being told. I lived it. I want to forget it.

-LNP-

Chimney travel—floo, they call it—is rather nauseating. I stumble as I step out of the chimney—swallowing hard, fighting to keep my tummy down—and into a warm and inviting sitting room.

Instead of taking in the room, I step to the side of the chimney and stare at my red sneakers. Well worn but well cared for.

"Wait right here while I go fetch Ginny and Ron."

I hear her footsteps fade away but I never look up. After a few minutes, softer footsteps sound, moving quickly toward me. My eyes stay rooted. I flinch as I feel rough, hard, dirty fingers caress my forehead, pulling my long, dark copper bangs away from my face, revealing the lightning bolt scar about an inch above my left eye.

"Blimey, you got the scar. You're Lily Potter."

I shudder at his touch, fighting down a wave of nausea as my tummy lurches repeatedly. I desperately want to step away but my legs won't listen so I stay frozen to this spot.

"So, do you like kissing?" He asks out of nowhere. I hate fame. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have asked that if I wasn't as famous as Hagrid said I was. As the boy moves closer, he pushes slightly against my forehead, trying to tilt my head up. I think he's going to kiss me. I dig my fingernails into my palms to keep the tears welling in my eyes from falling. Why am I being this way? This isn't how I decided I was going to act. I'm not supposed to care. It's behind me.

"Ronald!" a girl's voice shrieks from across the room as he leans in closer. "Get away from her. Can't you see you're scaring the daylights out of her?"

His hand falls away from my head and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as he steps back a bit.

"But Ginny," he whines. "I want to hear what it was like to defeat the most powerful dark wizard of our era!"

"That's not what you asked!" I state firmly, finally looking up from my feet. My fear isn't gone, not by a long shot. But my anger at his deception drowns it out, clears my head. My fiery gaze meets his for a moment and he gulps, taking a step back. I hear much heavier footsteps approaching. "You touched me without asking and then you asked me if I liked to kiss. And then you tried to kiss me," I say, my voice kind of detached, lacking the bitterness I feel.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley barks as she steps back into the room. "Apologize! Now!"

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, looking up at the ceiling, his face turning as red as a tomato.

"Now get yourself outside, Ronald, and de-gnome the garden while you think about the proper way to behave around a young lady." Mrs. Weasley's tone is harsh and reprimanding.

"But, mom…!" he whines.

"No 'but mom's' with me, young man. Now out!" she commands, cutting him off.

"How long?" He mutters the question as he heads for the hall entrance that undoubtedly leads to the front door. His feet stomp with each step, the rubber soles squeaking against the polished hardwood of the floors.

"Until we get back from taking Lily to get her school supplies and some clothes."

He turns around to face his mother, astonished, mouth opening and shutting like a fish in air. "I can't go?" He asks. He's a different shade of red now, seething.

"Not with the way you've just behaved. Now out!"

He turns around and runs off, yelling, "That's not fair!" behind him, just before the sound of a door slamming back against its frame resonates through the house.

I turn to her and say, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley."

"No worries, dear," she says. "Ron has to learn being brave and bold may have gotten him into Gryffindor, but it'll mean nothing if all it does is make him act a fool."

The girl comes fully into the room. Stopping a few feet in front of me, she waves and says, "Hi, I'm Ginny."

"Hi," I answer, giving her a shy smile. "I'm Lily." I take my first good look at her and instantly forget about my confrontation with her brother. I know I'm blushing bright red even though I can't see my face, just from the warmth spreading across my cheeks. She stands nearly a foot taller than me, with translucent white skin covered in freckles and her cherry red, straight hair hanging down her back, nearly halfway to her waist.

My heart beats like a hummingbird's wings, all fluttery and fast. I can't take my eyes off her face as my smile turns into a goofy grin. My tummy kind of feels like I'm falling, but in a nice, fuzzy way instead of an 'I'm about to die' way. This feeling is so confusing.

"I think I should apparate us to Diagon Alley," Mrs. Weasley says, taking my hand in one of hers and Ginny's in the other. She leads us outside. "You won't be using the Floo network again until you understand how it works a bit better. I don't want you getting lost."

-LNP-

Apparating just plain sucks, I think as I empty my tummy. Not that I've had anything to eat for the last two days to throw up, except candy, but I still manage to bring up an incredible amount of bile. Being sucked through a straw, or at least feeling like you just were, does that to you. Ginny rubs soothing circles on my back as Mrs. Weasley holds my waist length, copper hair out of the mess. Finally, I'm done purging. Mrs. Weasley lets go of my hair and they both step back a little, giving me some space as I straighten up. She waves her wand in front of my face for a moment, saying a few words I don't understand and suddenly the awful taste in my mouth is gone.

"I'm sorry," I say, flinching, expecting Mrs. Weasley to slap me for making a mess and embarrassing her. But she doesn't. Instead, she sends Ginny on ahead to the bookstore and drags me over to a nearby bench placed against a grayish brick wall. My eyes lock on my feet as we walk across the broken cobblestone of the street. We both sit down.

"Look at me," she says softly. I don't really want to. I'm still nauseous and the foul odor of a nearby pet shop with far too many animals by the smell of it, isn't helping my tummy at all. Plus, there are too many people around and I've got it figured out now, why she didn't hit me. This is where she tells me I'm too embarrassing to be seen with in public and she's either going to take me back to the school or make me stay in the house where no one else can see me.

"Did you think I was going to hit you back there?" she asks, taking my chin in her hand and tilting my head up so I have to look at her. I give her a quick nod. Suddenly her arms wrap around me and she gives me a tight hug. I squirm against her a moment till I realize what she's offering.

My arms wind around her sides and I cling to her tightly. I start sobbing. I can't help it, even though I don't want to. One of her hands moves to my back and she rubs calming circles while I let it all out. I finally get that she doesn't believe any of the things I've been told about me. She's wrong though. I deserve to be beaten. I stopped fighting him. I tell her so between sobs. And I let her know that I won't blame her for taking me back to the school or making me stay inside the house, out of sight.

"Oh, hun," she says, the 'u' coming out with more of a long 'a' sound. "He wore you down till you couldn't fight anymore. That doesn't make you bad, it makes him a monster." I nod into her shoulder, not really convinced. "I know it'll take time for me to completely convince you of that, but I promise I'll never intentionally hurt you, I won't make you stay in the house to hide you from sight and I won't make you leave."

I want to believe her so I decide to take a chance and give her the benefit of the doubt. I'll trust her when she proves she means what she said but for now I won't mistrust her until she earns it.

**Continued**

Please review. No reviews for the prologue was depressing and contributed to the delay in this chapter being posted. Even if you hate it, please let me know.


	3. 2 Make Believing that I Have a Soul

All things Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling. This is an amateur work of fanfiction and no infringement is intended.

Title: Lily Potter: Year One, The Chamber and House Secrets

Author: tainteddr34ms

Rating: Mature. Adult themes.

Pairing: Lily/Ginny Femslash eventually.

Beta: Leigh

Author's note: This story probably qualifies as a girl!harry story but it's really about a very dark Lily Potter. Very much AU. Chapter titles are title's and lyrics from some of my favorite songs. A few pieces of dialogue are directly quoted from HPatSS. And please review. Please. Updates will come quicker with reviews. Shouldn't be that way, but they do inspire. It's a fact.

**Lily Potter: Year One, A Chamber and House Secrets**

**Chap 2**

**Make Believing that I Have a Soul Beneath the Surface**

I'm not sure I like Diagon Alley very much. Too many people jostling about, completely ignorant of those of us too short and small to challenge the sea of bodies for space, or air. As hard as the crowd unwittingly tries to pull me away, Mrs. Weasley's grip is stronger. She never lets go of my hand no matter how many directions the bodies try to suck me in.

A weight's been lifted from me. Crying helped. Well, that and the realization I'm not going back, even if I push the Weasleys away, I'm not going back. This isn't a dream, no matter how fantastical it seems. . My life in Little Whinging is over, done for good. Behind me. Like my freakish nature. I killed a Dark Lord when I was a baby and a half dozen people have already stopped us to dramatically thank me as we make our way to Flourish and Blotts. I had to cover my scar by letting my hair hang over my face just so we could cross the street. I'm not a freak at all here. I'm a hero.

So are Mum and Dad. Hagrid told me this morning they died protecting me from the wizard I ended up killing. Not the useless, drug addled drunks the Durseleys portrayed them as. I hated Mum and Dad so much for dying in an alcohol fueled car crash that, according to Aunt Petunia, left me with the lightning bolt scar on my forehead, a permanent testament they loved partying more than me. Every time I looked in the mirror I'd be reminded how much I hated them, hated myself for surviving. I even started to believe I deserved all the abuse the Durseley's doled out to me for surviving.

Stopping at the bookstore briefly, we fetch Ginny. She leaves a large stack of books at the front counter with a promise that we'll be back for them as soon as we finish at the bank. My school books, she explains to me. She still remembers the list from the week before when she got her own set.

The shop buildings we pass look so old fashioned. It's not just the darkened woodwork of their exteriors or the lack of electric lighting; they're cobbled together too closely, like the new's just been shoved in between, or stacked atop, the old, for generations, blending together with no rhyme or reason.

My eyes are drawn to one shop in particular. Its large glass window display is filled with girl's clothes, brightly colored dresses, skirts, blouses and shirts. I've never been allowed girls clothes, just Dudley's hand me downs. The colors and styles captivate me as I stand there and stare. With a quick tug on my sleeve, Ginny pulls me away, leading me towards the biggest building in the place.

It towers over everything else nearby, its snowy, marble façade shining in the bright, late morning sun. Thick, tall pillars line each corner of the building, giving it a Romanesque appearance. It looks so out of place compared to the rest of the shops and buildings, no stacking or blending of mismatched blocks.

As we shuffle up the stone steps, I stare at a small statue of a bearded and deformed man standing at the top. A little squeak escapes my lips as it bows deeply to me.

I shrink into Mrs. Weasley's side as Ginny says, "It's just a goblin, nothing to be scared of. They run the bank."

"They look mean," I say softly, relaxing a bit and letting some space grow between me and Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, well, they are bankers," Ginny says, smiling cheekily. Her smile gives me that confusing, falling feeling again.

I can't help the giggle that escapes as we go inside through the silver doors.

-LNP-

As we walk up to the teller's window, one of many along the long counter, Mrs. Weasley says, "Ms. Lily Potter would like to make a withdrawal from her vault."

I have a vault?

The goblin behind the counter looks me up and down a moment then asks, "Does Ms. Potter have her key?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley says, pulling a large, hand sized key out of a coat pocket and sliding it over to him. He steps to the side to examine the key more closely in a dim pool of light cast from a large oil lamp. I gawk dazedly across a long, low table running parallel to the counter. A goblin weighs a fist sized pile of what must be rubies by their red color on a balance scale. I have no real idea of their worth. As the teller steps back in front of us, blocking my view of the gems, I snap out of my trance.

"Everything seems to be in order," he says, waving the key at Mrs. Weasley a few times. Turning his head, he yells out, "Griphook!" I jump a little at the volume, but before I can even blink, there's another goblin standing beside him, bowing.

"Yes, sir?" the second goblin asks. He's shorter and more hunched over then the teller. Meaner looking, with a sharper face and a long, pointed beard.

"Show Ms. Potter to her vault," the teller says, handing the key over to Griphook.

-LNP-

I could've done without the rollercoaster ride, especially one on such creaky, wobbly, wooden tracks. I'm the only one it leaves green though, the other three seem totally unfazed by the hellish ride. I swallow the bile back hard, trying to keep from puking a second time today. At least there weren't any loop-da-loops.

We stand in front of a small, dark, metal door. Griphook inserts my key into the lock and turns it. With a quick, hard tug from the goblin, the door swings opens with a harsh, loud creak. Clouds of green smoke billow out, taking several moments to clear. Eyes bugging, mouth falling open, I'm shocked at the humongous pile of gold coins filling my vault. Reminds me of Uncle Scrooge's money vault in Duck Tales. Not as big maybe, but if you could actually swim in gold coins, I'd be able to without any problem.

I really have no idea how much it's all worth, but I'm stunned. Numbness spreads out from the center of my chest.

"I'm filthy rich and I was forced to live in a cupboard," I say softly through clenched teeth. Barely above a whisper. "He let them… He left me there and let them…" Part of me wants to cry. But I don't. Why? I know I'm safe now, with people who I think care. Oh, and bloody rich too. There's still some anger in me, but the person I want to lash out at isn't here so I bite back the urge.

"Time is money," Griphook says, handing me a small pouch.

"Go ahead and fill it up," Mrs. Weasley says, giving me a soft shove towards the door. As I step into the vault, she adds, "The gold ones are Galleons. There should be some silver Sickles and bronze Knuts in there too. Seventeen sickles to a galleon and twenty nine knuts to a sickle."

I nod, not really paying attention even though I know I should. I just open the sack and fill it with as many gold coins as it'll hold. Amazingly, the pouch doesn't weigh any more filled than empty.

-LNP-

A soft bell rings as we enter Madam Malkin's well-lit shop. A pudgy, smiling woman, wearing plum colored robes, stands in the back of the shop. Beside her, a pasty, pointed faced blond boy perches atop a footstool, trying on a set of unfinished, charcoal grey robes. Another woman kneels next to him, pinning the robe he wears.

The first woman turns to us as the boy gives us a look of pure disdain, muttering, "Weasleys," under his breath.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asks me.

Mrs. Weasley gives me a little shove towards the lady, saying, "Yes, she needs robes and a uniform."

Madam Malkin leads me over to a stool near the boy. As I stand up on it, she pats my back softly, saying, "Such a shame the robes have to be black, because I have the perfect green for your robes. It would contrast nicely with your red hair and compliment your complexion. I'll be right back."

"So," says the boy contemptuously, nose pointing up. "Where did Weasel's parents dig you up?" I turn to look for Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, but they're busy going through racks of clothing on the other side of the shop. "With that red hair of yours, I'd say you're a relative from a family so poor, being a Weasel is a step up, instead of some mudblood charity case."

I sigh. He'd fit right in with Dudley's gang. Or at least be a good partner for Piers, mean with words instead of fists. I have no idea what 'mudblood' means, but it's pretty obvious it's not a nice word. Sounds, I don't know…racist maybe? I wish Ginny was here beside me instead of on the other side of the store with her mum. I don't know why, but the closer she is the better I feel. He's maybe a year older than me. Hard to tell. He gives me a smug look when I don't answer.

"They're nice," I eventually say in a defensive whisper, fighting the urge to look down at my feet. I don't know why I say anything, I hate confrontations. Or I used to. A small inferno burns in my chest and tummy, wanting to lose control. Ginny and her mum are the nicest people I've ever met, so I need to do something. Or at least say something.

Lifting my head, I run my fingers over my forehead from bottom to top, pulling my bangs up with them. His eyes widen in surprise when I look directly at him. "You're Lily Potter!" he gasps, seeing my scar. The first few times people saw it was kinda nice, but being famous gets old very fast. But fame has its uses.

"Yes," I say with more force than I'm used to. I sound kinda barky.

"You should pick better friends," he says. "The Weasleys may be old blood, but they betray everything that means." Huh? He sounds like a Nazi. Or at least like he's of noble birth but just hasn't caught on to the 20th century yet. Maybe a bit of both? No way to know if I'm right, but I have the strongest feeling his family was well acquainted with Voldemort, even friendly. "The Potter name still means something. Don't destroy your reputation by associating with the wrong kind of families." Yeah, a bit of both.

"Almost as bad as being a mudblood," he mutters, like he's unsure he wants me to hear or not. So much venom in the last word, I have to resist the urge to take a step back and tumble off the stool.

"What's that mean?" I ask in a stern tone. Well, the sternest tone I can manage, anyway. At least I don't sound like the pipsqueak I normally do.

"Muggle born," he says. "Or descended from muggle born. Filth!" He barks the last word. I already learned what muggle means. Non magical. Mum was muggle born. I wish I knew a good hex. He just insulted her. And me too. Twice, since that's the second time he's used the horrid word. Out of touch noble and a Nazi for sure.

Hagrid told me this morning that Mum was nothing like my relatives made her out to be. She died in a war, trying to save me; not as a drug addled drunk in a car crash like I'd been led to believe.

Not that I'd actually do anything if I knew a good hex anyway. Or maybe I would. I have no idea. Honestly, I can see myself embracing my anger once I know enough to get away with it. On the other hand, I can also see me just trying to hide in a corner somewhere, hoping I won't be noticed.

"And who would you be?" I ask, surprising myself by matching his contemptuous tone and mixing in some confidence. More confrontational than I intended, but I'm done being walked on. I won't take the bullying anymore. Especially not about Mum or the Weasleys.

"Draco Malfoy," he answers with a slight nod, like his name should carry some great weight.

"My mum's family isn't magical." I say, my voice never losing its edge.

He looks stricken as he goes pale, like he has a lot more to fear than a tiny, eleven year old witch who wanted to disappear a few moments ago. But then again, I'm famous for killing a Dark Lord, so maybe it is _me_ he fears after all. Especially with the anger I know has to be twisting my face.

"I'm a second year," he says, like his words will somehow erase his meanness. He frowns as I shrug.

My body starts tingling all over as the small inferno consumes me, becomes a firestorm of pent up rage. My hair billows like a strong gust of wind blows it about. But there's no wind, just me.

A look of panic crosses his narrow face. "Look, I'm trying to help you…" It's pretty obvious he has no idea I'm clueless about magic.

"Whatever," I say, interrupting his apology.

"I come from a proud, pureblood family dating back…"

"That doesn't make you better than my mum, or me," I say. Under my breath, I add snidely, "Maybe more inbred than us…"

"How dare you!" he seethes, his fear forgotten.

"How dare I?" The inferno explodes, consumes me. I burn with intensity, wanting him to hurt. He launches backwards off the stool with a tremendous amount of force. His back slams into the wall hard. He slides down till he's sitting, dazed.

The woman pinning his robes finally speaks. "I think it best you two don't speak to one another anymore," she chastises us. Looking right at me, she adds, "Accidental magic still has consequences."

I want to say, "But I didn't do anything!" but before I can open my mouth to defend myself, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny finally return. Summoned by the commotion, most likely.

If looks could kill, Malfoy's glare would disintegrate me on the spot.

"Yet it's still accidental," Mrs. Weasley says, sticking up for me.

-LNP-

A tinkling bell jangles overhead as we step into a cramped, dusty shop. The back of my neck prickles as I take in the gloomy quiet of the place. Like an old library, but bristling with latent power barely under the surface. So many questions float through the back of my mind, but I swallow the urge to ask them. It'd take hours to answer them all anyway.

"Good afternoon." I jump at the soft voice of the old man looking me over with wide, pale eyes. Like he sees straight through me; down to the core of who I really am.

The intensity of his gaze disarms me a moment, making me shiver. I awkwardly utter a polite, "Hello," as I step back into Mrs. Weasley, leaning against her a bit.

"Ah yes," he says. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you today, Lily Potter." Not a question, a statement. "You look just like your mother, even if you have your father's hazel eyes." I'm not sure how to respond. I have no idea what Mum looked like, never even seen a picture of her. Or that Dad had blue eyes. The old man's unblinking stare creeps me out. It's like he's seeing more of me than I'm comfortable sharing with anyone, especially someone I just met.

He steps out from behind the counter and kneels in front of me so we're practically eye to eye. I try to blink as I see myself reflected in the moisture of his silvery eyes. I want to take my glasses off, see if that'll reduce the intensity of his creepy gaze.

He reaches up and presses a bony finger against the scar on my forehead. "And that's where…" he trails off and clears his throat gruffly before continuing, "I'm sorry to say I sold the very wand that did it," he says. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…" Shaking his head, he stands back up. Relief washes over me as his attention turns to Mrs. Weasley.

I miss the conversation between the two, too busy thinking about the wand he just mentioned. I don't really care about my scar, well I do, but not about the wand giving it to me. The other things that wand did that night is where my mind gets stuck. Taking Mum and Dad from me, killing them. The old man made it, gave it to Voldemort. I don't know what to think beyond never trusting the old man.

Ginny must notice I've gotten lost in my head because she gives my shoulder a soft squeeze and says, "He's like that because he has to match your wand to you." I nod in reply.

"Well, now - Ms. Potter. Let me see," he says, turning his attention back to me while pulling a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

Guessing, I raise my right arm since I'm right handed.

"Hold out your arm. That's it," he says, measuring me in so many different ways I can't keep track. "Every wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another's wand." The tape measure, now acting on its own, is busy irritating my nose as he pulls a box from the shelves.

"That will do," he says, the tape measure dropping to the floor in a crumpled heap. "Right then, Ms. Potter. Try this one first. I have a funny feeling the others will be a waste of time. Very unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. Just take it and give it a wave."

My fingers grow warm as I take the wand. Red and gold sparks shoot from the tip as I give it a quick swoosh from my head down towards my feet. Ginny claps loudly as Mr. Ollivander mutters, "Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

He takes the wand back and puts it in its box. As he starts wrapping the box in brown paper, I ask, "What's curious?"

He gives me the creepy stare again. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Ms. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar."

I gulp, not liking the sound of that at all. "Can't I have a different wand?"

"I'm afraid not. The wand chooses the witch… I think we must expect great things from you, Ms. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

I don't like Mr. Ollivander. I give him the seven Galleons he asks for, hoping to leave his shop as quickly as possible.

-LNP-

Crying and purging weren't the best start to the day and Ollivander's left me completely creeped out, but today's turned into maybe the best day of my life. It's deeper than being rescued by Hagrid. More than realizing I have a new life. I have two people who I know actually care about me. And the truth about Mum…she loved me, so did Dad. They were protecting me when they died. The Durseley's are the ones who're worthless excuses for human beings, not Mum and Dad.

Thinking about the Durseleys sours my mood a bit so I quickly change the course of my thoughts as we sit in the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for our lunch to be served. I shoot Ginny a small, giddy smile. Feeling this way about a girl? Yesterday, I'd have been devastated, just more proof of my freakish nature. Today? Well, my feelings aren't something I plan on letting her, or anyone, find out about. But I know they're not wrong. Everything else the Durseley's taught me is a lie to justify their hate and abuse. Why should their hatred of gay people be any different?

I'm pretty sure I'm gay. Didn't realize it before today, but the more I think about it, the more I see myself that way. A small part of me wants to panic at the thought, but it's drowned out by the much larger part of me feeling relieved. I'm serious about never letting a male touch me again. I was vaguely worried hormones would betray me sooner or later, but now it looks like I don't have to worry about it at all.

I catch Mrs. Weasley giving me an intent look. "Ginny," she says, turning to the girl. "Can you go check on our order? Tom seems to be taking longer than usual." Ginny pops up from her seat and dashes over to the old, wooden bar across the room.

I start to fidget when Mrs. Weasley turns her gaze back to me. "You like her, don't you?" she asks me.

So much for keeping my feelings secret. "Uh, yeah, she's the first friend I've ever had," I say.

"No, I mean you _like_ her like her," she says, repeating 'like' twice so I can't mistake her meaning.

I look up at her face, expecting to see anger and rejection but she looks calm. I'm not sure what to think. "Uh yeah…If it's a problem, I'll…"

"It's not a problem, dear," she says. "I just think I should warn you. Not everyone in the family will be comfortable with the idea, she may not be either."

"I'll try to hide it better," I say.

"Don't hide who you are," she says, shaking her head. "Just be prepared she may not return your feelings. And if the others figure it out and give you any grief, tell me so I can deal with them. Don't let them make you think there's anything wrong with you."

I nod, relieved, and take a deep breath. She's either a lot more perceptive than I thought or my face gives away a lot more than I'd like. I'm not sure I can stop the goofy, giddy smiles when I look at Ginny, but I need to try. People knowing I like girls isn't anything I want to deal with anytime soon. I'm only just eleven after all.

-LNP-

Lunch is so good, easily the best shepherd's pie I've ever had. The Leaky Cauldron may be a dim, grungy little pub, but the food's fantastic. Further proof looks can be deceiving. I didn't expect my birthday lunch to be so wonderful.

As I finish the last bite of probably the biggest meal I've ever had, Hagrid lumbers up to our table. I was so caught up in just getting away from the Durseleys' this morning that his immense size didn't really sink in. He must be half giant, well, if giants are real anyway.

"Hi Hagrid," I say, smiling up at him as Mrs. Weasley offers him a seat at our table. Ginny nods at him in greeting, giving a quick wave hello, her mouth too full for speech.

"Hi Lily," he says. "Molly, Ginny," he adds with a nod at each of them as he sits down. "I din' get a chance ta give yeh dis' dis'morning but I got sommat fer yeh here." He reaches into a huge pocket in his giant coat and pulls out a squashed brown box. "I might'a sat on it at some point, but it should taste all right." He puts the box down in front of me.

I give him a big, toothy grin as I open the box. My first ever birthday present. "Thank you," I say. Inside is a slightly smashed chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and 'Happy Birthday Lily' written in green icing. I pull it from the box and set it on the table.

"There's enough for everyone," I say, doubting I have room left for a slice but I wanna try. It is my first birthday cake, after all.

"We'll need some plates and forks," Mrs. Weasley says, getting up from the table and heading over to the bar.

"Thanks," Ginny says, smiling at me, setting my heart all a flutter.

"I got yeh a right prop'r birfday present too," Hagrid says, reaching into another large, also bulging, coat pocket and pulling out a smallish bird cage with the most beautiful baby, snowy white owl. "Yeh need a familiar. A toad'll get yeh teased sommat fierce 'n cats make meh sneeze, so I figured she'd make yeh a right'n good familiar."

As he's about to put the cage down on the table, he hesitates a moment then stretches an arm around the table and hands me the cage. "I din' expect Molly ta be too happy with a bird cage on the table."

"Thank you, Hagrid," I say, taking the cage and placing it beside me on the floor. "She's beautiful."

"What're you gonna name her?" Ginny asks.

"I have no idea. Need to think about it. I've never had a familiar before." I push a finger between two of the bars and the owl hops over on its perch and gives the tip a soft peck. "Morgan." Not sure why I just picked that name, but it seems to fit her. She gives a sharp, little bark of approval.

"She barks," I say, surprised.

"Aye," Hagrid says. "Snow owls be'a barkers 'n chirpers instead o' a'hooting."

Continued


End file.
